The Smile That Lasted a Lifetime
by capricious insanity
Summary: Set after V’s escape at Larkhill. Weak and near death, V is rescued by a little girl and begins a new life in her family's care. First songs, First smiles.. The child shows him how euphoric life can be and how everything is never permanent.
1. someone more precious

**The smile that lasted a lifetime**

**Cha-11 **

**Warning:** The story happens after V's escape at Larkhill. This story is completely based on my imagination about V's past. V is a bit out of character and I've also included my own character, which will very much influence V throughout the Story and be the reason for V's actions in the movie. If you don't like any part I've mentioned, I advise you not to read. But if you still wish to proceed, please do not flame. I don't do well with people flaming my stories.. sorry. but if you do like it, please review. thank you.

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**Chapter I **

**Someone more precious **

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Hunger.

Pain.

Infection.

These were only few of the infinite thoughts swirling in his head. He had been walking for days now, and he still had no idea where to head or where he was. He was dizzy with hunger, felt the churning of his stomach to vomit but he couldn't, what was there to throw up? He had tried to eat grass, leaves-even bugs, anything he thought was edible but the pain they brought him was unbearable, starving to death seemed much better.

Crawling now, he felt the blades of grass penetrate his deteriorating flesh, like countless frozen needles puncturing his entire body.

Breathing became difficult and near impossible. Stigmatizing pain was everywhere, in his lungs, in his stomach, his skin.. Had she died feeling the same pain?

Death.

It was what he thought now. It was inevitable for every living and nonliving organism in this corrupted world, and his time, it seemed, was this very moment.

Oh, he couldn't even laugh at the irony. Here he was, free and far, so he thought, from that hellhole that played him a guinea pig, but, Oh, the comedy of it burned him, he was dying.

Free at last, but dying because of it.

Couldn't even laugh or scream at his self, he had no strength, no voice. He had nothing but what she made him see he had. He finally laid himself on the dirt infested earth.

_Valerie.. Forgive me.. _

He would never get their rightful revenge now. It brought him more pain than dying.

And then everything went black.

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"Is he alright now?"

He awoke with the voice of a young girl whispering prayers beside his ear. His eyes were open, desperately trying to see but something covered his eyes.

"Yes. You did a good job cleaning him. I really thought you wouldn't be able to handle all the blood."

An older voice replied.

"Bon."

The sound of containers closing, boxes being put away drowned the whisper of prayers.

"Did he get infected or something?"

It sounded genuinely concerned, but he couldn't help but sneer inside. People were rarely this worried when it came to a stranger. She must be an actress of some sort.

"Yes, yes. But don't worry much; the antibiotics will take care of it. We'll just make sure that he's clean all the time and apply all the necessary antiseptics all the time."

He didn't feel much pain anymore, only the stinging sensation of alcohol on a fresh cut. He wondered where he was and who was with him, he tried to open his mouth to speak, but only inaudible murmurs came out so he stopped and just listened. There was a light pressure on his arm, it hurt, but it was tolerable enough so he didn't make any noise or movement.

"You really shouldn't be touching him. Even if he is wound up, any slight pressure would be torture."

The pressure that was present quickly disappeared.

"Oh my-I'm so sorry."

The young female voice apologized over and over again.

"That's quite enough already; I think you're bothering him."

She immediately shushed.

"Well then, I'll be down washing these towels now."

"D'accord."

"I still can't believe that you managed to carry him halfway to the shed."

"I didn't think I could even carry him.. I'm glad we can take care of him and he can live with us, if he wanted."

"That is if no one comes looking for him. My, my.. He's not a pet you know."

"I know, I know. I'm just thinking of his health. I mean, what if no one comes for him?"

"Just as I said, he can stay if he wanted. And why are you thinking of such negative things? It's bad manners to think that immediately."

There was a slight creak and the sound of something inanimate being dragged. A door softly squeaked open and was about to be closed,

"Wait."

The door halted.

"When do you think he'll wake up?"

"He might sleep for days.. Or he could be awake this very moment."

"Really?."

"Just let him rest. He will wake up sooner or later, okay?"

"D'accord"

"But he'll probably sleep a long time, we did give him some morphine."

The door finally shut closed and all he could hear was her praying, at least he thought she was.

"Cher Dieu, please let this person be well soon."

His inner sneer dissipated, considering for the first time, that maybe the child was being honest. Something inside him made him lower his guard and dream not about vengeance as he always did, but of simply being at peace and a bit pleased that someone was watching over him as he slept. Although, there was a cold fear in his spine that the child might be one of those demonic children with morbid humor and be of sadistic nature. In this time and age, children were sometimes more perverse than teenagers or adults.

"Please don't be sick, please don't be sick."

She continued praying, and that frigid fear began to disappear. Maybe he was fortunate this time.

"Make him well and make him wake up soon."

As he dozed off, the something inside him made him think. Valerie had made him see the most important part of himself and maybe, this child might show him how to live with it.


	2. her favorite quotes and her mischief

**Chapter II**

**Her favorite quotes and her mischief**

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"It is not enough to help the feeble up, but to support him after."

"What?."

They were talking again, and mildly disturbing his sleep. He shifted a bit in the bed, trying to make them see that he was very much bothered.

"It's Shakespeare, saying we have to support the feeble, that also goes for the injured and burned, so with that can you make sure that he lives with us?."

Oh, good lord. Was the child at it again?.

"For heaven's sake, will you leave that decision to the man?!."

Irritation was the tone of her voice; even he had found the child an annoyance, even if she was only concerned about him.

"But-"

"Dear God! He's not a cat you can simply keep with our permission!"

Emma, as he'd learned what her name was, was usually quite and often raised her voice only when she was at her limits. And her limits always came short when the child was involved.

"Stop pestering me with that question, over and over and over and over again! You're driving me insane!"

And it drove him nuts as well; it was similar to steel sharp nails scratching a chalkboard that was as tall as a house. And imagine that being done next to your ears.

"Don't you dare come near me if you're just going to ask that same question."

Emma yelled and quickly stomped away, making the bed shake with every step of her foot.

Soft lazy, footsteps neared the chair that had been placed near the bed, a soft puff same from the cushion. Silence was short-lived as the child whined, almost sounding like a mule.

He found the situation ambiguous, comforting and insulting him at the same time. He was wanted, which was proven genuine and with concern but he was wanted in a way a cat was. This in a way was sort of acceptable; at least he'd have a home and be fed.

What the bloody hell.

What was he_ thinking_? Was he even using what was left of his bloody brain? No, what the hell in the world was he even considering?!

He wasn't going mad with insanity, he _was_ insane.

He heard her vaguely in the background as she recited some of her favorite quotes from various known and less known writers.

Deep in his mind, he was drowning with confusion and frustration at himself, he was too focused on himself and that focus broke when he heard her say a word.

"Inevitable."

He felt himself smile, although he didn't know what the word meant, he was sure she had pronounced it wrong.

"Inevitable, inevitable... "

She sighed, and he heard her tear a piece of paper from somewhere, hopefully not a book, he thought. He stopped thinking of pets and listened intently to her.

"Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind."

She gave a short chuckle at this,

"Riiight."

She commented as if she knew better, which made him a bit curious.

"Thank God that's not always true."

She paused a moment, looking at him, and strangely, he knew she was looking at him.

"Though I am not naturally honest, I am so sometimes by chance."

He expected her to giggle at her statement, but she didn't. He could feel that stare of hers was serious and it was penetrating the several layers of clothe around him. It made him squirm a little.

"Those two are both from Shakespeare."

She was about to say something, but she paused again, putting her book on the edge of the bed, he felt her two small hands over his own large one.

"I wish you'd wake soon, I might die of boredom if read all of quotes I've written down without anyone commenting."

Oh the poor child, if only she knew that the past week, he had been fully awake and aware of everything that went on in the room, he just decided that he'd listen and figure out what kind of people were inhibiting the building he was in, without them knowing. He found their arguments and reactions hilarious, especially when there had been a roach present in the room, if only he could have seen her crying face with crocodile tears, which she stated were true tears of fear.

"Are you even listening to me?"

She said in a defeated and sad voice.

Of course he was, he thought.

She was the only noise, he considered her whining and questions noise, that he heard and he couldn't do anything to make her shut up or to keep her voice out of his head, so he had no other choice but to pay reluctant attention, except when she was reading to him like this, because the particular quotes she had taken down piqued his curiosity, making him wonder, why a child like her would take any interest in such quotes. They weren't exactly what children her age should be saying.

She sighed, taking her hands off him and taking hold of the book once more.

"Any fool can tell the truth, but it requires a man of some sense to know how to lie well."

The chair squeaked as she stood, pushing it back a bit with her legs.

"That one is from Samuel Butler.

That was the first he'd heard her read from him.

"It's one of my favorites you know."

Even though he couldn't see her, he felt her smile a wickedly. As if she was doing something naughty. And what naughty things could possibly be related to that quote he asked.

And if only he knew, she was indeed being naughty but of no relation to the quote. It came to her as sudden as an electric shock.

The child was so eager and was utterly tired of waiting for him to wake up, for all they knew, since they couldn't see his eyes, he could have been awake the entire week.

She was being mischievous and bad, but she had to at least know that he wasn't awake and she wasn't waiting for something that was already there. Besides, she was tired of reading to him and not getting any reaction whatsoever.

It wasn't like she wasn't going to peel all the bandages off, only lift the ones above his eyes to see his eyes. Or cut them.

She slowly took the small scissors on the table beside the bed, she knew how to cut and she was positive she'd never hurt him.

"One little snip."

She murmured, the man heard her but didn't get what she had said.

Oh, if only he knew.

Of course he was clueless that his spying was coming to an end, he was planning on pretending to be asleep for another week, just to get back at the child for always being so noisy, and he was still preparing to fend off the girl from sucking all his strength from all the activities she had mentioning since the beginning, but he was going to face the hyperactive girl sooner than he thought.

If only his eyes were closed, and if only the bandages around him weren't so thick, he would've felt her lifting the cloth from his eyes.

"One, two……"

The girl mumbled,

What was she doing?

Then suddenly, the cloth that covered his eyes disappeared and a bright light flashed before his eyes. He shut them to block the light, his brow in a frown. He opened them as soon as something blocked the light, to see a pair of shocked black eyes.

"You're awake."

She said incredulously.

"Mon Dieu! You're awake!"


	3. First song

**Chapter III **

**First song**

**-------------------**

"Bee, bee, bee, a giant bumblebee…"

A little girl's voice sung in a hushed tone, almost whispering the words. Her hand was pressed against the glass of her room's window, those charcoal eyes of hers staring at the setting sun.

"Abeille, abeille, abeille, a géant bourdon…"

The little girl now sung the same line in French, Her favorite. She studied French when she was 10 and stopped when she was 11, because they were leaving for England. And she didn't want any other teacher than the one she had back at their own country. At first he couldn't understand a word she was saying, but he finally understood them when she mixed the sentence in English and French.

"Bee… Abeille…a giant… a géant… bumblebee…bourbon…"

She was pronouncing V as bee. And he both found it charming and irritating. She was deliberately deforming his name and she fumed whenever he mispronounced hers by accident.

She'd aggravate him to no end and when she found it too much, she'd charm his affections back.

Oh, how ambivalent his heart was when it came to her, seven months had already passed since he came and lived with them, and still he found her confusing and surprising. He wanted to strangle her until she breathed no longer and he also wanted to keep her from harm's way, but thinking the first completely contradicted the second and thinking the second made him ask himself why'd he even thought of the first.

Oh. That's right. She scalded him several times while he was showering, constantly flushing the toilet every five minutes and she nearly choked him with milk, which she forced him to drink, because she suddenly attacked his very ticklish waist while he was drinking and instead of spitting it at her; he let it ooze out of his nose.

Yes. Tickle her while strangling her.

As if he'd spoken his thoughts aloud, that tiny head turned to look at him. Her eyes reflected the dark amber colour of the sun, making those orbs look like they contained enticing flames, ready to burn anyone she set her gaze to.

_Okay_… maybe he was exaggerating a bit about strangling her.

She tilted her head a bit to her right, and stared at him. A tornado of flames caught frozen inside her deep set eyes.

Okay. Now, there would be definitely no more strangling, only tickling.

After all, she was just a 12 year-old.

_And_ she was also just a little girl.

_And_ she did save his life.

He groaned inwardly, cursing himself.

**"Tall and tan and young and lovely,"**

She started to sing in a low, hushed tone.

**"The girl from Ipanema goes walking,"**

There was a relaxed and content smile on her face as she continued.

** "And when she passes, each one she passes goes "a-a-ah…"**

She turned her head back to face the window, swaying her body a bit to the song.

**"When she walks she's like a samba that, **

**Swings so cool and sways so gentle, **

**That when she passes each one she passes goes "a-a-ah!" **

**Oh, but I watch her so sadly, **

**How can I tell her I love her? **

**Yes, I would give my heart gladly**

**But each day when she walks to the sea, **

**She looks straight ahead not at me **

**Tall and tan and young and lovely, **

**The girl from Ipanema goes walking, **

**And when she passes I smile, **

**But she doesn't see, **

**She just doesn't see, **

**No she doesn't see…"**

Her eyes were glazed and sad when she looked back at him, a small kind of smile he rarely saw on her. She never looked this way before, especially when she was with him. She'd usually entertain him and laugh at herself and urge him to laugh as well.

"Sorry. I just felt like singing it. I hope my voice didn't make your ears bleed."

Normally, he begged her to stop every time he heard her sing, but she didn't deform this song like she deformed the others.

"No."

He slightly shook his head. And the tiny smile grew a bit, her eyes becoming clear. The uneasy feeling lessened.

"Not at all… I think I actually... like it…"

The tiny smile widened and she lunged for him, wrapping her thin, long arms around his waist, and he too, found himself smiling, the ache now was almost gone.

"What's the song?"

After several moments, she removed herself from him and looked up at him, her eyes wide and happy just like before. The feeling lessened even more. It was so much better to see her torture him than see her look this sad.

"The girl from Ipanema. Do you want me to teach it to you?"

"Yes."

Yes, yes. Now there'd be no more strangling… at least for some time. Aside from that, it felt good to make her smile.

"I'm glad."

"Why?"

He asked just like she would and tilted his head a bit like her. The smile turned bitter, an expression that she uncommonly used.

"Because… I won't be singing that song alone anymore…"

Her voice was low and almost a whisper. She looked away, her gaze back to the window as if she was searching or waiting for something to pop on the glass.

"It'll be good to hear you sing that to me. It's… special."

she almost seemed reluctant to say it.

"Special?"

"Uh huh..."

The girl nodded, slowly looking back at him.

Someone used to always sing that to me."

The tiny girl nodded, in a somewhat melancholic manner.

"But I don't want that person to sing it to me anymore, he's no longer special."

"Then why do you want to teach it to me?"

This was probably one of her erratic mood swings, if she didn't pop from being furiously angry at something petty to being happy at something so ordinary, she'd either be happy or down the entire day.

"So you can sing it to me."

"But why do you want me to sing it to you?"

"Because you're special."

She stated in a precious way, almost as if she was embarassed because it means something more... That... He removed what he currently thinking from his thoughts. That was silly and unnatural... And wrong. He shrugged it off, focusing his attention to her as she began to sway a little.

"Now... The girl from Ipanema goes walking…"


	4. For you

**Chapter IV **

**For you**

**--------------------------------------- **

"I hate this!"

A tiny voice screeched. She hurled her backpack on the stuffed-toy filled bed, sprawling herself face-forward as she did on the same white bed.

"Détester! J'-"

The hateful words were muffled by the comforter and for that, he was thankful. To hear her whine and spout words pure of hate in French made his head spin.

"What is it, mon joli Eve?"

He'd started to mix a little bit of French in his sentences, only those that he could remember and pronounce correctly. She was a nasty teacher, she'd easily get upset by the slightest mispronunciation… but he only made them at beginning. And she had no patience, she'd only spend two hours teaching him and expected him to master everything, luckily enough, he learned quickly and didn't make too much mistake.

He strolled over to the dismantled bed, bent a few inches away from the bed and picked up an orange stuffed cat. He placed it back gently on the bed.

"école!"

Rolling over to face him, he saw that her eyes were bloodshot with tears continuously streaming down the sides of her head.

"école! I don't ever want to go back there!"

He automatically sat on the bed, wiping the tears with a handkerchief.

"What happened?"

"Rupert got suspended because of me!"

He was dumbstruck. The boy, Rupert, was one of her few friends, and that particular boy was as gentle as a newborn fawn! He was so soft-spoken, so timid-he was often mistaken a mute!

She sat up and grabbed a nearby stuffed toy and pressed it against her mouth and screamed. After a minute of hysterical screams, she gently placed the toy beside her.

"It's all Liam's fault! He was hitting me with a book! And he was laughing while he was doing it!"

"What!-"

"He gave me a huge bump here,"

She grabbed his hand and led it to a spot behind her head, he gently pressed and his palm indeed met a huge bump. He felt a swivel of rage run through his stomach and up his lungs, oh! How he hated that little bastard even more! He roared with savage rage inside, he had wanted to stab the life out of that demonic child since the first time he punched her. Yes he punched her right in the face. Her face! That already small and fragile face!

V took his hands of her and clenched so hard he thought his fingers might pass through his hand. He stilled his movements and asked in a calm voice,

"Was Liam punished?"

Her little face grimaced. He saw the reluctance in those tear-filled eyes. She knew he'd do something just like he had before. Only the two of them knew it was he who had placed that tiny bomb in Liam's bag a week after that incident. He only did that to scare and if possible, traumatize the little devil. She saw the gleam in his eyes when he asked whose bag had exploded, and she knew it was him. He didn't deny it when she asked and… he found it disturbingly attractive that she wasn't scared. She thanked him and made him swear to never do anything like that again. So this time maybe he was thinking of doing something to the little brat himself… with knives.

"I don't know. They were still talking about it… s'il vous plaît V…ne faites pas."

Her eyes stopped tearing and they remained that way. They sat on her bed in silence; it was neither comfortable nor awkward. She simply stared at him, his promise evident in her pleading eyes.

"Rupert…"

She began in a soft voice.

"For the first time, he stood up to someone… he punched Liam in the face and broke his nose..."

She managed a small chuckle, a vivid image popping in her head, it appeared in his too. But the smile disappeared quickly.

"That devil deserved it."

She nodded and then shook her head then closed her eyes, her small face confused and pained.

"Please talk to Mrs. Ainsworth. I begged her to take back Rupert's suspension but she still wouldn't. I already explained everything."

Those tears started to well up again, and she bit down on her lower lip and tried not to cry. It was amazing how he didn't hate that face anymore, or was the one that caused it these days. If these things had happened earlier, he would have inwardly cheered for Liam, but things were different. _He _was different. He couldn't help but be different when he found out about it. Her past.

"Please V. please."

And it wasn't just her past that got to him, it was her.

"I will."

She was getting closer and closer to his heart everyday as he watched her grow up yet stay a child at the same time. It didn't help that he felt quite guilty for having been so mean to her, while all she had wanted from him was love and attention. And he was going to do everything he could to make up for it.

She opened her eyes and looked up at him, she was so small. The worry in her eyes cleared and she wrapped her thin, slender arms around his waist and muttered a soft thank you against his shirt. She knew he had a way with words and women, Rupert's suspension would soon be gone.

"You're welcome."

He felt _that_ odd feeling again in his chest. It was small, but noticeable. That warm, happy feeling that made him determined to do anything for her. Anything.

* * *

Détester! – Detest

mon joli – my pretty

école! - School

s'il vous plait - please

ne faites pas - don't


End file.
